The Socio and the Psycho
by crypticxmetaphor
Summary: Professional assassin, returns to her home in Gotham only to get caught up in the crazy whirlwind with a boy trying to climb the criminal social ladder. Penguin/OC
1. Chapter 1

This was the third night in a row I followed the boy to work. Being back in Gotham, I was bored. I know, a criminal, bored in Gotham? But I have a particular skill set that is not for generic use. Being bored, I realized I was lonely. It's a strange feeling and I've never cared about feelings. I liked killing and I liked nice things, that's all my life was ever to amount to and that was just fine with me.

I picked this boy to follow because I knew he worked for Fish Mooney who worked for Carmine Falcone; such a combination was sure to cure my boredom. Oswald, Mooney called him, the rest; Penguin. Each time they said it, I watched his face contort in anger, but he never moved to stop it. He was scrawny with sharp, angular features and black hair with bangs cut just a little too short, like his mother did it for him. His skin was pale and he looked to be about my age, but he wore a suit better than anyone I've ever seen.

Tonight, though, I didn't slink along in the shadows. I put on the shortest, tightest dress I could find and walked into Mooney's nightclub with my head held high. I sat at the bar with my drink, turning down every guy who even tried to talk me. I kept casting glances at Oswald as he waited on Mooney hand and foot. It didn't take him long to notice and soon enough he was taking nervous glances at me. I watched as Mooney whispered in his ear and Oswald looked at me. I smiled at him, paid my tab, and walked out. As I had hoped, Oswald followed.

I led him into an alley and he was immediately on top of me. He pressed me up against the side of the building and I wrapped my fingers in his hair. He shoved his tongue down my throat and his hands wrestled with my hips. He yanked the dress up and I moved my hands from his hair to his slacks.

Back at the apartment, I imagined him returning to Mooney after our rendezvous.

"Was she good?" Mooney would ask.

Oswald would grin sheepishly.

"Who is she?" his boss would pry for more information about the new girl on her turf.

Only then would he realize that he never got my name.

I saw him the next day out back of the night club. He was holding an umbrella for Mooney while she beat the shit out of some poor shmuck. I was too far away to hear what it was about. But after Mooney left I watched as a giant handed Oswald the bat. His lip twitched into what might have been a smile. After a few gentle hits, Oswald began whacking the guy without control. I could have sworn his eyes gleamed in excitement.

As fate would have it, I ran into him on his way home from work that night. He was shuffling along a poorly lit street, looking suspicious. "Hello, Oswald."

He started. I guess I had been walking quieter than I had meant to be. "Oh, hello. I am afraid I didn't catch your name last night."

"You can call me Lizzie." Although Lizzie isn't my name, it wasn't a lie because I never claimed that it was. "I saw you beat the living snot out of that guy earlier." He seemed fucked up enough to not care about stalking. "Ever actually kill a man?"

"Why would you ask that?" His eyes narrowed and his voice rose, giving him the illusion of innocence.

I grinned mischievously. "I think you'd like it." I didn't kill for pleasure, not that I didn't like it, but I was good at it and my parents taught me to never do something I was good at for free.

"Well, this is me." He stopped in front of a dingy apartment building. "Goodnight, Lizzie."

"Aw, you're not coming home with me," I teased. I owned several properties throughout the world, none of them truly home and most of them a secret. I wouldn't take him to a place that could be traced back to me, just a tiny apartment furnished minimally to keep up the pretense of a living space, it was almost reminiscent of a flop house. "Can't handle me two nights in a row?"

Anger flashed across his face and he threw me against the front of his building. His forearm was across my throat and his face only inches from mine. I grinned, dangerously, thoroughly turned on.

"You like that?" He asked, surprised.

"God, yes," I breathed.

"Where do you live?"

"Two blocks," I motioned in the direction we were walking. "You wanna go?"

I took him home to the apartment where he pinned me down and fucked me. We went nearly all night and in the morning I couldn't walk right. We lay curled up together on the mattress, my head on his bare chest long after the sun had risen. "Do you want breakfast?" I asked awkwardly, I usually didn't spend the whole night.

"I have to go see Mooney," he shook his head.

I batted my eyelashes at him. "Am I not important enough?"

Oswald looked at me and stroked my cheek. "You are the most important thing to me, darling, but Mooney could kill me."

"I could kill you." I nipped at his nose.

"I know." He moved our position so he was back on top of me. "But Mooney actually would." He put my legs around his waist and began the night's activities all over again.

I had caught the bug. I never thought I needed anybody else, but now I had someone who understood me. He needed violence just as much as I did and I was addicted to him. When he was not with Mooney, he was with me. Oswald didn't talk much about his family or his past, but then again I never talked about myself at all.

And then I had to leave for a job. Oswald never asked what I did; he knew I killed, but I didn't think he knew what a renowned assassin I was. "I'm going to be out of town for a few days," I told Oswald.

"You're leaving me," his face dropped.

"Only for a few days." I kissed him, but he didn't kiss back. "I'll be back before you know it."

Oswald rolled his eyes at me. "Good luck, don't get yourself killed."

I didn't understand where his hostility was coming from. He knew I worked out of town jobs. I wasn't about to shit where I ate, as the saying goes. "Same to you, Oswald."

I returned to Gotham a week later, which was later than I had promised. I found my Oswald once again by lurking through the alleyways which were quite ample in the city. A man was dragging him along, but Oswald took a switchblade and killed the man to free himself. I had to admit it was pretty hot how into Oswald was. The man had to be dead, although he was still bleeding and took this as my cue to approach Oswald. I meant to ask him what that was all about, how he had been, instead I grabbed the upturned yellow collar of the polo shirt he was wearing. It was layered underneath a grey sweater; he looked like a wannabe prep school jock. "What are you wearing?" I asked.

He smirked. "It was all he had."

It was a vague comment, but I knew he had killed someone else. I took his hand and followed as he walked to a food truck across the way. He had stolen all the cash off of his victim. "Are you going to tell me what you've been up to?"

Oswald beamed with pride. "I'm supposed to be dead, but I've killed three others. These two guys picked me up as a hitchhiker. Jim Gordon was supposed to kill me, you see. I was a disheveled mess. They picked me up, but then they called me Penguin. I stabbed one in the throat with a broken beer bottle. I saved the other so I could hold him for ransom, but his mother wouldn't pay for him. The poor lady, he must have been such a trouble maker. If I would be getting any money, then he was just wasting my time. I had to kill him, too."

"That's my boy." I kissed him on the cheek. "Why don't you like being called Penguin, though? You're adorable, Oswald, and I love penguins."

"Y-you do? Maybe it's not that bad of a name."

I giggled. "My Penguin is a killer."

Oswald grinned, pleased with himself.


	2. Chapter 2

*I just wanted to note that this Oswald Cobblepot is based on only information provided through the TV series Gotham, I'm not digging into what is cannon in the comics.

It turns out Oswald was looking for a new job in the crime syndicate field, but it would have to be on new turf. Oswald Cobblepot is dead; shot and dumped in the river.

"Do you know how much I cost? You don't need a job," I told him, and it was true. I was the best so I could quote exorbitant fees and still be hired.

"It is not about the money," he attempted to explain. "It is about the power."

I still didn't understand why he needed to find employment in a menial job. "I'll kill whoever you want. That'll give you status."

Oswald let out a soft chuckle. "That is a good way to inspire fear, but I need respect as well."

He was hired as a dishwasher at an Italian restaurant in Maroni's district. He had to boas to me about how he killed yet another man for the job, but said no more other than that he was going by the name Paulo.

I returned from running errands and found Oswald in the apartment. He hadn't bothered to turn on the lights. His legs were crossed and he had been biting his nails, staring at the door I had just walked through. He wore a new suit, but despite his pristine appearance, looked agitated. "Where have you been?"

I flicked the light switch on and plopped down on the velvet sofa next to the chair he was occupying, noticing he looked even more washed out than usual. "Groceries," I answered carefully. "Why are you here?"

"I have been promoted to restaurant manager and Darling, we're going on a proper date. Make sure you're not doing anything Friday." He picked up the pink box that had been sitting on the table in front of him. "I just need to take care of something first."

I liked him bossing me around when he was usually so meek outside of the bedroom. "Congratulations," I called after him as he left, wondering how the hell he managed to receive such a big promotion in only a few days. It shouldn't have surprised me, Oswald was a pro at manipulation and being cunning. I just didn't know how deep his scheming went. Instead of putting away the food I had purchased, I opened a box of cookies without leaving the couch.

The apartment was musty and dark even with the lights on. I had been living there for two months- it was time to move. I didn't want to leave Gotham, though, I was having too much fun with Oswald. It would have to find a new property within the city limits- commuting created routine; something I avidly avoid.

Oswald came by again Friday at 7. He had a black eye and a cut on his cheek that was still hearing. When I asked him about it, he said it happened the other day and not to worry about it. We got out of the cab two blocks from the restaurant because I had commented on how nice the weather was. It was cold and you couldn't see the stars because of light pollution. It smelled like a dirty city; not winter. It was beautiful. Oswald put his jacket over my shoulders and held my hand as he slowly waddled along.

"Paulo! Penguin!" a jovial man called from down the street. As he approached I recognized him as Don Maroni. "My, my, who is this lovely lady?" he kissed the top of my hand.

"Lysa," I rattled off another one of my aliases. They all had the same initials, LT; Lizzie Thorn, Lysa Tate. It was a tactic I borrowed from undercover CIA agents. I couldn't very well be Lizzie- Lizzie was with Oswald and this was Paulo.

"We were just on our way to dinner," Paulo explained.

"Oh, wonderful! You can join me and my wife." Maroni walked with us to his restaurant and I tried to look enthused.

Maroni now knew my face and although he didn't know it belonged to me, he could still recognize it on someone else, somewhere else. I shot Oswald a look of complete distain.

Oswald leaned over a kissed my cheek. "Please, just do this for me."

Of course, I didn't say anything. I didn't want to get him killed, but I was pissed as hell.

They sat us at a corner booth in the back of the restaurant. I quickly took the corner seat of that booth where I could see the whole restaurant and noticed Maroni trying to not look upset. He was a gentleman though and didn't tell me to move. Growing up I had always fought hard for the seat where my back wouldn't be exposed. My mother always told me it was the Italian in me, I guess it actually is a cultural trait.

"You've got some serious balls bringing me into that!" I shouted at Oswald on the way home.

"Darling, I didn't know he would be there."

I issued a sarcastic laugh. "You're a fucking mastermind and I don't mind helping you on your way to criminal stardom, but don't you dare use me like one of your pawns! If you're taking me out just to look good and schmooze, then let me know, but don't pretend it's because you care about me." I immediately stopped speaking and bit my lip, shocked by all I had said. This wasn't like me, perhaps I did have one glass of wine too many.

"You want honesty from me?" Oswald gave me his pathetic and innocent look; the one that I fell for every time. "I do care about you and I didn't plan to rendezvous with Maroni, but I was hoping to run into him. I wanted to look normal and I wanted to look successful." He put his hand on my knee and gently began running it up my thigh. I let him lean in and kiss my neck, also very gently.

The cab stopped in front of my building, we paid, and I dragged him up to my apartment, nearly ripping off his suit in the process.


	3. Chapter 3

I woke up while it was still dark outside. My arms were around Oswald's neck and my wrists were still bound together. His arms were around my torso and our legs were intertwined. I pressed my lips to his and he began kissing me back without opening his eyes. When I pulled away, he didn't pursue me and I nuzzled my face into the crook of his neck. After a moment, I slipped my arms over his head and rolled out of bed. I had somewhere to be.

The air was still and I had my mission lined up perfectly in my scope, but I noticed a red dot on his shirt that did not belong to me. I raised the scope to the roof of the building across from me and noticed a sniper with dark hair peering through a scope of his own. He hadn't noticed me; I fired a warning shot passed his ear. He looked up and I noticed the eye he was using to aim was covered with an eye patch and a red robot eye sat on top of it; it was Deadshot. I waved and returned to my mission. In less than a minute; a bullet soared through the front of his head and another through the back. Deadshot had fired as well. I looked up and saw he was making his way towards me with his gun on his back. I held my ground.

"What the hell are you doing?" he growled.

"Making money; same as you, Deadshot."

His eye narrowed. "You think it matters that you know who I am? Everyone knows who you are."

"Yeah, but I'm a fucking legend," I smirked and tumbled off the two-story building, disappearing into the crowd.

It had been several days when I returned to Gotham and I sought out Oswald at the restaurant. "You've been gone a while," he commented with malice.

"I'm sorry, I had somewhere I needed to be. What's wrong? You know I disappear, but I always come back."

"You've known who I am this whole time and all I have gotten from you is Lizzie, which isn't even true. That is what's wrong."

I laughed. "Really? Kapelput? I pronounced his name with the proper Eastern European accent."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Oswald seethed.

"It means you're ashamed of your heritage! You don't want to be an immigrant; you're so obsessed with power that you Anglicized your name and sound like you learned English by imitating the upper-class from 30's movies." I didn't want to be cruel, but even without his appearance, his speech patterns made him stand out like a sore thumb.

"I am more of an Oswald than you are a Lizzie. Who are you really?"

I sighed. "Miranda Saturn; they call me the Devil's Darling."

He laughed darkly and covered his grin with his hand. "You know, I- I've heard about you."

"Then you know why I can't exist. You know that I make sure not to," I lowered my voice, trying to sound gentle.

"It's not about that. You did not trust me."

"It's nothing personal. No one can know where to find the Devil's Darling, let alone who she is. You know now, alright, Penguin?"

Oswald's eyes went blank, cold and devoid of emotion. "Don't. Call. Me. That." He backed me against the wall.

"Are you gonna kill me or fuck me?"

He slammed his fist into the wall beside my head. "Perhaps both." Instead, he backed away and looked down, refusing to make eye contact. "Just leave."

Without another word, I turned and left, walking against the Gotham wind. It was time to buy that new apartment.

I placed a gun to the back of Oswald's head, pressing into his black, stringy hair. It had been a week since I had last spoken to him. "I need you to leave Gotham for two, three days tops." Oswald turned around and I moved the muzzle of the gun in line with his temple. "I'm trying to protect you as well as me." It was no use pretending I wasn't concerned about myself; I've always been my number one priority. I dropped the gun and shoved it, butt first, into his chest where his hands caught it. "Just take this and go."

With a smirk, he turned the gun on me and held in underneath my chin. "Why should I?"

"Well, fine. Stay if you like being tortured," I shrugged.

"Screw you, Darling." I put the gun in the back of his waistband, underneath his jacket and limped off quickly.

Deadshot stood on a corner, reading the street signs, not even bothering to hide himself. Glad in Gotham this wouldn't be questioned, I approached him from behind and took him down. He fought, but I was able to get him in a headlock with my thighs. "What do you want?" I growled.

"Aren't you curious how I found you?" he taunted.

"It doesn't matter. Because if you come after me again; you'll be dead."

He decided to answer my question. "I want to prove that the Devil's Darling isn't a legend. She's just another woman."

I took out a knife and flicked it open next to his ear so he would hear it. "Oh that's not true. I am so much more. Now you're handsome and there is a shortage of beautiful people in this world. But if you ever come after me again, I will not only kill you, but disfigure you beyond recognition," I explained as sweetly as I could. Then, in a swift motion, I released him and stuck the knife in his abdomen. "If you can make it to the hospital in about, say, seven minutes, you won't bleed out."

As I watched Deadshot leave on a train, I saw Oswald arrive. "You've got some blood." He licked his thumb and rubbed my cheek.

I looked at my red hands; I must have unknowingly touched my face.

"There," he said when the mark was gone. "I think you ought to meet my mother."

I let out a harsh laugh. "I don't do parents. And I definitely don't do crazy-conservative mothers."

"She just wants what's best for me." We walked outside together into the grayness of Gotham.

"Does she even know you're alive?"

Oswald tried to straighten up as he did when he wanted someone to take him seriously. "Yes, I went to see her when we were-ah- not conversing."

I could only imagine how that went. Oswald explaining his fake death; his mother accusing him of succumbing to a whore and then doting on him like he can't even wipe his own ass. What the hell had I gotten myself into?


	4. Chapter 4

I sat in the shoulder-deep water of the tub, my knees pulled up to my chin. I sat hunched over, tired and bored. Lately, all I could feel was ennui. Oswald knelt next to me, his three piece suit abandoned and the sleeves of his crisp, white shirt rolled up to his elbows. He gently washed my back with a soapy cloth. He had insisted in his silky sweet manner and I, of course, let him. Oswald held a towel for me as I lifted myself out of the tub and wrapped it around me. The cold air came as a shock after being completely submerged.

"Darling, why don't you just tell people who you are?" he asked curiously. "The people will part for you like the Red Sea when you're walking down the street."

"You just want people to stop beating you up," I replied.

He grinned, knowing that I had correctly called him out. "It's a win-win situation."

"I'm not going to reveal myself unless I know it will further my career and reputation," I told him as I dried myself off. "You're not at the top of the food chain, honey, you can't protect me. You're a snitch and they all know it. They'll look to the prince to replace the king, not the jester. And I'm sure you're five steps ahead in the chess game, but so far the white set is only missing pawns." I tossed the towel playfully at him. "Sorry, but you're not the only one with a strategy"

"You should not disrespect me like that." Oswald followed me into the other room where I had already changed into an oversized tshirt.

I walked up to him and kissed his lips, eliciting no reaction. He was twitching, trying not to kill me.

"I enjoy you, Oswald, but I like myself too much to change my attitude." I climbed into bed and laid on my side with my back towards Oswald. After some rustling he climbed into bed with me. His arm wrapped around my waist and his bare legs intertwined with mine.

"I'm still going to tell Mother about us."

I sighed out of relief when he wasn't there when I woke up. It was our routine to leave the other one still sleeping. I hoped he hadn't gone to see his mother, but now I didn't have to worry about him finding out that I was going to visit a cop.

I opened the door to a silent apartment. Jim Gordon was standing in a defensive position, gun pointed at someone I couldn't see, but I surmised he worked for Falcone. I drew my own gun and rounded the corner. "Well, this is awkward," I announced myself. There were two men, startled by my sudden and casual appearance and a terrified Barbara sitting on the couch. "Want me to kill them, Uncle?"

"What? No!" He responded, startled by the inquisition. "I've got this. I don't want any deaths in my home."

"Suit yourself," I shrugged.

He was correct, he was able to handle the situation himself and, much to my disappointment, no one died.

"What are you doing here?" He asked when all was said and done.

"Georgia's dead. I thought you should know because Zach clearly wasn't going to."

Jim remained guarded, refusing to offer me a seat. "You seem real broken up about it. She was your mother."

"She might have given birth to me, but we both know that she was not my mother, nor Zach a father." I noticed how upset Jim looked and some part of me knew it was because she was his sister although they hadn't spoken in years. The appropriate thing to do would have been to comfort him, but there was no point in keeping up a normal façade. My family knew I was a monster since I was five and killed the cat. "I'll be going then."

"I'll show you out." Barbara spoke for the first time during the exchange as she rose from the couch.

"Thanks for not killing Oswald," I called over my shoulder on my way out the door to a Jim who sat with his face in his hands.

My superior sleuthing skills taught me that Falcone and Maroni were involved in a battle over Oswald and that they could be found at the docks. The last time Oswald was there, his death was being faked.

"Eh, where do you think you're going, toots?" A greasy man pushed me away when I tried to get near to the water.

In a swift motion, I disarmed him and placed the gun to his head. "Walk," I commanded. He did and when we reached the two parties, I shot him in the head. Everyone jumped and all the cronies pulled out their guns, aimed towards me. "Whose was he?" I asked.

Falcone raised his hand.

I turned my gun to run of Maroni's men and shot him dead was well. "I didn't want you to think I was taking sides," I explained.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Maroni demanded, complete with Italian hand gestures.

Oswald moved over to me from Maroni's side to protect me with his umbrella from the drizzle. He stood next to me underneath the black shield. "I am in no way leaving you, sir," he made sure to say to Maroni. "I just don't want the lady to get wet."

"Sure, but who the fuck is she?"'

Falcone cleared his throat, drawing the attention back to him. "She's the Devil's Darling," he explained. He had hired me on out of town jobs before.

I wasn't paying much attention, though. I had noticed scratches on Oswald's cheek. I grabbed his face to examine the damage. "Why is it I always find you in worse condition than I have left you?" I asked more to myself than him. "You better not be debating this man's life," I called over to the Don's. "because he is under my protection."

"Of course not, Miss," Falcone assured me. "We were just working out a property trade."

"Out of the car." I held a knife to a driver outside of Wayne Tower. He was waiting for his employer, but I didn't know nor care who that was. The man obliged, taking off his cap like a polite gentleman in the process. I slit his throat anyway because I didn't want him chasing after me. By now the rain had stopped, but the air was still damp. I drove ten blocks and parked outside of the restaurant Oswald technically managed. It wasn't a minute before he was in the passenger's seat and I was driving to the edge of the city; towards Falcone's home.

"I won't be but a minute." He kissed my cheek and exited the car, umbrella first. He was true to his word and did not keep my waiting long. "Thank you, sincerely."

I shook my head. "I was wrong. You're twenty moves ahead, but that only makes me wonder if you'll sacrifice me to save your queen."

He laughed at that; a loud, barking laugh, that I had never heard before. "Darling, on my chess board you are the Queen."


	5. Chapter 5

*Sorry this is a bit of a shorter one. It's more of a filler than anything else.

**I would love to hear some overall feedback from you guys as well, thanks :)

When I was five my mother brought home a cat. He was a Calico cat and I named him Max, although now I can't remember why. We got along famously. He would bring me mice that wriggled while I held them. I found out that the harder I squeezed; the harder they struggled, until they just finally stopped. I took to holding them under water to see if it had the same effect.

When I was eleven our science book had detailed pictures of human insides, beautifully done with bright colors. I cut Max open after school to compare; he was only red.

I never told anyone, I just left him there in the backyard. After that my mom started treating me differently, although she never asked or even hinted that I had killed the cat, but she began tiptoeing around me.

"Melissa, are you even listening to me?" Oswald asked, leaning on his umbrella, leering at me.

"Hm? Yeah, you're apologizing for nothing."

He sniffed. "You shouldn't be so blasé. I'm trying to make this right."

"There's nothing wrong! I was trying to seduce you that night we met. Besides, you don't sound very sincere in anything you say."

Had I known it wasn't normal to experiment on animals, I would have hidden it. I would have pretended to be normal so I wouldn't have been ostracized by my family.

It took my dad longer to notice my abnormalities. He still brought me to Bring Your Child to Work Day when I was in high school. He was an accountant, what I thought, and still think, is the most boring job on the planet.

"Why do you do this?" I asked him. "Sit here and count?"

"Because I'm good at it," he told me. "And when you're good at something, never do it for free."

It was sound advice, but for the most part my parents were idiots. They succumbed to love and it ruined them.

"I feel that I could have done this more romantically," Oswald continued. "I have never had a girlfriend before; never been with a girl before you."

I awkwardly patted him on the shoulder, still distracted for a reason I could not quite grasp. "Don't worry about it, Penguin." Then I noticed his bandaged hand. "I really didn't want to make good on that threat," I sighed.

"And you will not need to. That's where we're headed now; I am taking care of it."

I crinkled my forehead and followed Oswald down the street, wondering how long I had zoned out for.

"Apple?" Oswald asked and he cut a piece of fruit and ate it off the knife.

I nodded and he tossed me one from the table which I caught and began eating as Oswald's men tied up Mooney's lackey.

He seemed to be a complete different person than when he normally worked. His demeanor changed entirely now that he was in charge and not schmoozing someone else. There was no stuttering, no hunched posture; his eyes were not flitting about, but stared that man down. This was the Oswald I liked. This was the Oswald that I planned to stay with; he would be powerful and I could relax and look pretty on his arm. I smiled at him and he grinned back, pleased with himself. I was pleased with myself; once he took control of Gotham, I would never have to lift another finger.

"Whose woods these are, I think I know. His house is in the village, though. He will not see me stopping here, to watch his woods fill up with snow." The poem had perfect rhythm; it was the first I had ever memorized. I muttered it to myself now, as I walked in the rain. "Oh, I'm sorry!" I cried, getting the attention of the man I just ran into.

He held my arms, steadying me. "It's perfectly alright, miss."

"Mr. Bullock!" I exclaimed. "I was just on my way to the precinct to look for you."

"I'm sorry, do we know we each other?"

I looked at my feet and then back at him; a display of naivety or modesty. "No, not really. I'm Jim Gordon's niece, Melissa."

Harvey chuckled. "He never mentioned any family."

"Well, my parents and him… they… don't really…"

"I understand. I won't mentioned that you came by," he said. "What can I do for you?"

I did my best impression of concerned and worried. "I heard about Falcone and I, well, I just wanted to make sure…" I understood why Oswald stuttered.

"We're fine. Don't you worry, darling. You're Uncle Jim is a tough guy."

A smile of relief. "Thank you. Goodnight, Mr. Bullock."

"Goodnight, darling. You be careful now."

The rain had let up and the dark of the city embraced me as I walked home. "I have promises to keep," I said. "And miles to go before I sleep." Damn, right I had miles to go, but at least this game was a fun one.


	6. Chapter 6

For once it was sunny in Gotham. The sun had fought and broken its way through the clouds, ridding us of the constant grey sky. I sat outside one of the dozens of cafés in the city with Oswald, drinking coffee and scribbling in a notebook. "Pathetic," I commented on a couple at the table behind us, where a boy was breaking up with a girl, turning her into a faucet.

Oswald turned around to look at them.

"Attachments are weaknesses. Why would you build your life around another person? It's illogical to care that much."

"I care about you," Oswald muttered.

I looked up from my notebook. Perhaps I was wrong to assume we were both only a means to an end. "So if you knew that you could take out Falcone and take over without opposition and you had a knife to Falcone's throat, but one other person still supported him and they were holding a knife to me, and there was no way that you could save me and kill Falcone- would you drop the knife or kill us both?"

"I'd drop the knife," Oswald answered without hesitation.

I pointed accusingly at him. "Weakness."

Surprisingly, Oswald chuckled and I had to ask him what was so funny. "The other day I had to remove an obstacle and I told him that if you knew what a man loved, you could kill him. In his case it was money."

Down the street, I spotted Detective Harvey Bullock. "Shit. It's Harvey. Scram," I interrupted Oswald.

He picked up his coffee and shuffled over to the next table without a complaint. He wanted something from me, or I would have gotten a sarcastic response.

Harvey tipped his hat as he passed and asked how I was. I responded with the proper formalities.

"That was it?" Oswald rejoined my table and placed a gift-wrapped box in front of me.

"If he saw me with you, I would lose any credibility I had with him- what's this?"

Oswald raised his eyebrows. "I've been trying to give it to you for the past half-hour. It's just a little something I thought you would like."

I tore off the paper and opened the box. Inside was a cream colored, cashmere scarf. I took it out and wrapped it around my neck; it smelled of lilacs. "You stole this," I grinned.

"I was hoping you would wear it to dinner with Mother tonight," he ignored my original comment.

Immediately, I took the scarf off. "No."

At 7 o'clock I stood outside of the Kapleput apartment, dressed in a conservative dress and wearing my new scarf. I am not quite sure how I got there, but I assume it was filled with threats and sexual innuendos from Oswald. I reached out to bang on the door, but ended up just gently tapping on the wood. Miss Havisham opened the door. "You must be Elizabeth!" She greeted me with a thick accent. "Come in!"

I took off my jacket and hunt it on the coat rack next to the door. The apartment was dark and overcrowded with expensive, but antique looking knick-knacks. Several ornate cages held exotic looking birds.

"My Oswald has never had a girlfriend before," Mrs. Kapleput told me. "I think his peers found him odd; with all of his birds and all."

Oswald had never told me he liked birds.

"Mother!" Oswald came in from the other room, blushing, intending to interrupt his mother before she could get to the really embarrassing facts. I, on the other hand, was too busy having high school flashbacks.

It became even more uncomfortable when we actually had food in front of us. Mrs. Kapleput tore me apart and I received no defense from her son.

"Oswald tells me you're a diplomat," she said.

That was one way to put it. "Yes, I am."

"Hmph. How do you expect to take care of Oswald with a job like that. A good wife stays home to look after her husband and children."

Oswald was a fully grown man who could take care of himself. Marriage and children weren't even in the equation. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," I responded not wanting to upset her in front of Oswald.

After the meal, I awkwardly said my goodbyes and Mrs. Kapleput pulled me in for a hug. "You leave my son alone. Whores like you are nothing, but trouble," she hissed.

I didn't respond. She was hindering my relationship with Oswald and would have to be removed. Once I was sure Oswald would not seek revenge on me for her death; I planned to kill her.

My greatest strength is that I am efficient. In and out before anyone knew I was there; a body being the only evidence that I exist at all. This man turned around and started when I was only inches away from him. Without a word, I slipped out my knife and stuck it through his head from the underside of his chin. I removed it and his shell crumpled to the floor. In only a couple minutes, I left the building without notice of the security guards. It was so easy to kill important people, they always worked late.

When I was just another civilian on the street, I checked my cell phone to see that I had ten missed calls; all from Oswald. Immediately, I hit redial. "What's up, Penguin?" I asked when he answered the call.

"Hello, Darling, one minute," he greeted me, happier than I thought he would be after ten unanswered calls. "Now what did I ask of you?" he questioned someone on his end of the line and it was followed by a grunt of pain.

"Who do you have there?" I asked.

"Just business," he replied. "I am assuming that is where you are because I have been unable to get a hold of you." A pause. "I wished to apologize for Mother the other night."

I wished he could see the exasperated look on my face. "You realize that you are a grown man, capable of taking care of yourself, right? Because I'm convinced your mother thinks you are five."

"She did not mean what she said. She is only looking out for me," he tried to explain.

"I don't want to talk about this, Oswald."

I heard him click is tongue. "It is rude not to accept an apology."

"I'll be home in two days; you can kill me then." I wondered if he ever would if I kept inviting him to do it, but I believed he was too smart to try. He valued his own life too much.


End file.
